


A Pitch of Salt

by vesaer



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Single Father Doyoung, Soccer Coach Yuta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 01:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17888849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesaer/pseuds/vesaer
Summary: Doyoung is convinced that his son’s soccer coach thinks that he hates his own cookies, which is, in part, true. But not really. Nothing is true actually.





	A Pitch of Salt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [city135](https://archiveofourown.org/users/city135/gifts).



> Prompt: coach and single dad; Yuta is the coach of Doyoung's son's team; Doyoung is the type of parent who always brings lots of snacks and Yuta is a great coach but somehow it's hard for them to get along (at first)
> 
> Dearest recipient: Thanks for the lovely prompt! Sadly, I'm bad with words. Can you hold my hand for a second? I'm a bit nervous.

There were mornings where the only thing that could get Doyoung out of his bed was Jeno. On the cold winter days when he had to get up to go to work, an important responsibility now he had a child under his care, only the idea of getting home to a hyped Jeno made it possible for him to get up with the sky still pitch dark without feeling like his life was turning into a pointless routine.

After moving to a new apartment, his free time during weekdays wasn’t _his_ anymore. Jeno started to feel restless after spending so much time with nannies and away from his dad, so Doyoung had to make it up for him after dinnertime to catch up with the new words that Jeno had learned that day or the new toy that he had seen on tv. That only made waking up in the morning harder, but Saturdays were a different story, having to wake up extra early to drive for two hours to his parent's house so they could have lunch with their grandchild.

Sundays were a bit harder after Jeno insisted on joining a soccer club, not only because on Saturday nights he used to stay up late, enjoying a well-deserved glass of wine and catching up on any drama that was popular at the moment, but because he had to spend a large portion of his morning under the sun, surrounded by screaming children and, who could be considered the worst company for an already exhausted Kim Doyoung…

"Coach Nakamoto!" Donghyuck shouted from the middle of the field, "Jaemin won’t leave me alone!"

"We already talked about this," the coach told him from the side of the court where he was monitoring the children's game, "he's playing defense, he's supposed to follow you."

The answer did not seem to satisfy Donghyuck, who tried to keep Jaemin away from him by pushing him aside.

"No, Hyuck, no!" Taeil yelled from where he was in the bleachers next to Doyoung.

Donghyuck made a show of sighing and resigning himself to having to play with someone following each of his movements and coach Nakamoto turned to mouth a pleased _thanks_ to Taeil.

Doyoung hated the fact that it was so easy for him to notice those small gestures.

Truth to be told, for a complete jerk, Yuta was good with children. At first, Doyoung had convinced himself that Yuta didn't take his job as a coach as seriously as he should but over time Yuta had shown his concern for children. He cared for them, for their friendship and their teamwork, even going as far as getting involved in heavy arguments with some parents after they refused to follow the rules.

Unfortunately, Doyoung had only noticed this when it was already late, and by then the relationship between the two was permanently ruined.

The thing is, Doyoung had no idea what to expect from Jeno's first day of soccer. But one of the things that were totally unexpected was his coach. Doyoung presumed he’d be some retired player or a soccer enthusiast who had never really played the game himself but enjoyed shouting at the TV when the players couldn’t score a goal. But no, coach Nakamoto was in his early thirties, just like him, and in _great_ physical shape.

Okay, maybe this was way better than what Doyoung could have expected. Or not.

Yuta seemed to have everything: a nice body, a pleasant smile, a good mood at 8 o'clock in the morning —something that Doyoung found really impressive— and an adorable Japanese accent. Unfortunately, the package came with an irritable attitude, and only it took Doyoung a couple of minutes to notice it.

“... but yeah, usually the kids won’t tell me if they’re uncomfortable at first because they tend to get intimidated,” Yuta had said before Jeno’s first day. Doyoung had taken the time to be there extra early so they could talk about schedules and special tournaments. “So if, like,” The way in which Yuta was staring at him made him feel younger for a second, “if he tells you anything about me or the kids, please tell me so I can do something about it.”

“I will, thank you,” there was only one question left, “so at what time do I pick him up?”

And that’s how he fucked up.

“Excuse me?” Yuta’s expression soured

“Am I…” Doyoung took a few steps back, “not supposed to pick him up?”

“What do you mean by _pick him up_ ,” by then Yuta started to look less confused and more irritated, “there’s not such a thing as picking him up, you have to stay.”

That had to be a joke.

“So I’m supposed to stay here the entire morning?”

“What do you mean by the _entire_ morning?” Yuta scoffed, “they don’t stay here for longer than two hours.”

For Doyoung, who until then was used to waking up around lunchtime on his days off, that was the whole morning, but he couldn’t let Yuta know that.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see any reason to stay here while he’s playing soccer, I can just pick him up later.”

The way in which Yuta was staring at him now made him feel younger in a horrible way, suddenly he was nine, telling his mother that he had spilled hot chocolate in her expensive shoes.

“What the fuck? Do you think this is a fucking daycare?” Doyoung wasn’t going to admit out loud that yes, that was exactly how he felt about the soccer club, so he kept a straight face, not really giving Yuta anything and hoped for that to be enough to end the discussion.

It was. Kinda.

But Doyoung didn’t like to think about it that much. Getting along with someone with whom he barely had to interact on Sunday mornings when he was still sleepy and time wasn’t a real thing, was the least of his worries. After all, he had the whole group of parents at his feet.

"Did you bring them? Can I have one?" Seulgi asked, sitting next to him.

"Of course I brought them," Doyoung said, focusing his attention in the present, "I spent my whole Saturday night baking them."

Well, that was a harmless little white lie. Maybe not so harmless, because he was taking credit for someone else’s job, but that wasn’t his intention at first.

It had all started a week after being added to the Parents On Extra Time group chat. Irene had insisted that Doyoung, being the new one in the group, was in charge of the snacks the following week, which didn’t sound like a big deal at the time. It was when he was already in his car with a half-sleep Jeno that his useless brain decided to remind him about it. By then it was too late, so he had to stop by a bakery on the way there and hope that others would understand.

He really didn’t mean to lie about it. Not until Nayeon questioned him how he had made them.

“Those don’t have GMOs in them, right? Chaeyoung only eats organic food.”

Doyoung didn’t even know what GMOs were and didn’t even care about the pretentious diets that those soccer mommies were feeding their children, but just to avoid being judged, he smiled and reassured her, “Gosh, no! I would never! I only use organic ingredients when baking.”

And that was the start of it. Suddenly the kids were calling him a baking genius and asking for his cookies every single week. Their parents, the bastards, agreed. Doyoung only found it unfair at first, because they were supposed to have a snack schedule and everyone was expected to cooperate.

But after the third Sunday, not only the kids were eating them, but also the parents, after Ten decided to taste one of them after stealing a handful from Doyoung’s tupperware.

“Those are better than the sweet taste of victory after winning rock, paper scissors to Kun and not having to wake up at shit O’clock to hang around you losers on a Sunday morning,” he said, stuffing another cookie in his mouth.

“This is why Renjun loves Kun more,” Taeil stared at him before standing up and walking over Doyoung. “Can I have one?”

So when the following week rolled around Doyoung had to buy extra cookies for the parents, smiling at the compliments from all the deluded people who believed that Doyoung even knew how to work the black magic of an oven.

Who would have thought that for the price of two dozen cookies Doyoung could win over both the parents and their children? Of course, not everything could be perfect. Yuta had never shown interest in the cookies, approaching the snacks only when a child brought a cake for his birthday.

"Is the coach is obsessed with his fitness or what? I have never seen him eat a cookie..." Doyoung asked nonchalantly, while he tried to look barely interested in the answer, pretending to check his phone.

"I don’t think so," Taeil told him, "he used to take turns bringing snacks himself, but he stopped since we put you in charge of them."

The answer left Doyoung a little disconcerted. Partly because he had no idea that Yuta also collaborated with the snacks, but mostly because the idea of someone rejecting his —okay, not _his_ — cookies offended him.

"Jeno," Doyoung whispered to his son at the end of the game, "why don’t you share a cookie with your coach? Come on, we already talked about sharing."

Eager to please his father, Jeno grabbed a cookie from the pile and approached his coach, who was getting ready to leave.

Doyoung pretended not to be paying attention, quickly getting involved in a conversation with Irene and Nayeon about... implants? Oh well, couldn’t be worse than being caught staring, right?

"Mr. Kim!" Yuta called him over.

Doyoung took his sweet time packing his things before walking over. When he got there, he grabbed Jeno’s hand as if getting ready to leave, faking disinterest in the shower of compliments that were sure to come out of Yuta’s mouth at any second now.

“Did you bake this?” Yuta asked him, holding a cookie between his finger. _Nice fingers, he has nice hands_ , his brain provided because, apparently, collecting irrelevant facts about Yuta’s appearance was one of his hobbies now.

“Yeah,” Doyoung smiled proudly, believing his own lie.

“Really?” he asked him incredulously.

Doyoung frowned. How dared he question his lies?

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” Yuta smiled, “they’re really good.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You know,” Yuta started, “I like baking too,” well, that was unexpected. Was there anything that this man couldn’t do? “I took a course when I was in college.”

“That’s nice,” Doyoung pretended to be unimpressed, though he didn’t even know how to work an Easy-Bake oven.

“But, you know, I have never had cookies this good,” Yuta smiled at him again and Doyoung suddenly remembered that Jeno was right there, listening to their conversation.

“Thank you,” Doyoung repeated, ready to leave.

“Can I have the recipe?” Yuta suddenly asked him.

“Uh…” Doyoung really wanted to leave now. “It’s a family recipe,” he explained.

Yuta simply stared at him for a couple of seconds that felt too long, as if thinking what to say next. “Okay, I understand,” he finally said.

Doyoung nodded and tightened his grip on his child’s hand.

“Say goodbye Jeno.”

“Bye!” Jeno waved his free hand cheerfully.

“Bye,” Yuta waved his hand back.

“Goodbye,” said Doyoung, avoiding Yuta’s eyes.

“See you next week."

 

Unfortunately for Doyoung, the following week arrived way too soon. One minute he was setting the alarm to wake up on Monday morning to go to work and the next he was sitting in the bleachers, scrolling down on Instagram with his smartphone, as bored as he could be.

“Hey there,” a warm voice greeted him. Yuta was staring down at him, the sun shining over his head.

Doyoung let out a sigh. “Aren’t you supposed to be coaching?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your phone like you always are?” Yuta grinned at him.

“I was until you interrupted me.”

Yuta let out a little amused laugh and sat down next to him. “They’re stretching,” he said and pointed at the children with his chin.

Doyoung found it a bit pointless. Weren't five-year-olds flexible already? Then again, he didn't know anything about sports.

“Can I help you with something then?”

“Your cookies, I couldn’t stop thinking about them.” the coach admitted. “I still want the recipe.”

“I told you, it’s—”

“A family recipe, whatever, I’m good at keeping secrets,” Yuta interrupted him.

By then Doyoung was over their conversation and unlocked his phone to keep scrolling through his feed pointlessly for hours.

“I said no.” He said voice tired, “And why do you keep insisting?” He asked him. “They're not even that good.”

“How dare you?” Yuta sounded insulted. “It’s not even your recipe!”

Panic settled in Doyoung's stomach and his phone started to feel slippery in his hands. Yuta knew? How?

“What?” Doyoung asked, alarmed.

Yuta looked unfazed. “Didn't you say that it was a family recipe? That means it’s not _yours-_ yours.”

“That's not—" Doyoung was at a loss of words. He took a deep breath and tried again. "That doesn't matter. And I don't like them because I don’t really have a sweet tooth,” he explained. “Jen’s the one who likes sweet things.”

“Oh!” Yuta faked surprise, clearly not bothering to make it look convincing in front of Doyoung. “So you must bake them for Jeno all the time then…”

That was too far for Doyoung. He didn't like lying about his son or to his son, so he simply ignored Yuta's comment, hoping for his silence to force him to leave him alone.

But Yuta didn't move from his side and Doyoung could see from the corner of his eye how the man was staring at him.

“What?” Doyoung asked him, trying to make eye contact for the first that day.

Yuta was the one to ignore him this time, immediately standing up and walking towards where the kids were still stretching.

“Are you ready, kids?” He asked them, voice cheerful, a change in tone from how he was talking to Doyoung a minute before.

“Aye aye coach,” they replied.

 

The next Sunday Doyoung wasn’t in the mood for anything. He had to stay up past two in the morning to meet a deadline and could barely focus on the traffic while driving Jeno to practice. So when Yuta approached him, he was ready to ignore him.

“Don’t mind me, I just came here to beg for the recipe,” Yuta teased him.

Doyoung rolled his eyes and huffed.

“Nah, I'm here to annoy you,” Yuta grinned down at him. His smile, albeit annoying, made Doyoung feel a little bit better. He procured not to let it show on his face.

“You're doing great then.”

“No, but,” Yuta was sitting next to him now, “tell me, how much is this recipe worth to you?”

“A lot.”

“Come on,” why did he have to be so insistent? “You said they weren't that good.”

“Still.”

Yuta remained quiet for a couple of minutes. Doyoung closed his eyes. He could hear the kids in the distance, running laps and screaming for no reason. He almost fell asleep, but then Yuta spoke again.

“Let me guess,” his voice was playful, but small, “a brand new Maserati?”

Doyoung kept his eyes closed and nodded his head no.

“A beach house in Hawaii?”

No.

“A million dollars?”

No.

“A coffee?”

 

A coffee. A coffee. A coffee.

Doyoung spent the entire week repeating his conversation with Yuta in his head. He kept regretting keeping his eyes closed, but he knew that had he opened them, they would have betrayed him, revealing more too much of him.

He also regretted not saying anything. But he hadn't had anything to say. Not to himself, not to Yuta, not to anyone.

So maybe, his reaction was the best option. Freezing in the face of danger.

And so Doyoung waited. And waited. And waited. Once the lump in his throat began to loosen, he opened his eyes. By then, Yuta was no longer at his side, but Doyoung seemed more annoyed by his absence than by his previous presence.

Yuta had only said goodbye to Jeno when they left, avoiding Doyoung’s stare, who didn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off him.

Two words and Yuta already had Doyoung acting like that.

Anticipating their next meeting, Doyoung decided that he had to do something about it. Yuta had left the ball in his court after all. So the next Sunday morning he took a deep breath, said goodbye to his dignity and stepped into the bakery.

“Welcome to Cheery Bomb!” the man behind the counter greeted him as cheerfully as always. “What can I help you with?”

“I'll have the regular,” Doyoung answered, fidgeting with fingers, a bit nervous about what he was going to do next. “You know, those cookies are really good.”

The man’s smile got even brighter, Doyoung had no idea how it was possible to be in such a good mood at that time in the morning.

“Thank you,” the man said, looking pleased with himself.

“I keep wondering,” come on, it was a simple request, “could I have the recipe?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man’s face fell. “These are exclusive to our bakery, it’s a family recipe.”

That was not the answer Doyoung expected, but maybe it was the one he needed. How far was he willing to go with that lie? Maybe it was time to tell the truth and deal with the consequences. After all, it couldn’t be more embarrassing than asking a baker for a recipe.

“It’s fine,” he said. And he meant it.

It was going to be fine.

 

With his mind made up, Doyoung got into his car and drove his son to soccer. He was going to do it. He was going to tell him the truth. Tell them all the truth.

When he was parking, he turned to Jeno, who was in the back seat.

"Baby, I have to talk to your coach today, are you waiting for me in the bleachers?"

"Yes," Jeno replied disinterestedly.

In part, what made him feel the worst was thinking about how the other parents and their children would react to his confession. Jeno was a distracted child, disinterested in adult issues, who had no idea that his father was pretending to bake cookies for his soccer team. What would happen if the other children started telling him what his father did?

Suddenly, he wasn’t only worried about Yuta's reaction.

"Jen, baby," he said as he loaned him his cell phone to keep him entertained since they were the first to arrive and Jeno got bored easily. "Daddy is a little worried," Jeno stared at him with round eyes, not used to hearing about this side of his father. "Would you wish me good luck?"

"Good luck, dad," Jeno wished him with a big smile, eyes turning into crescent moons.

Doyoung stood up straight and walked to where Yuta was, on the other side of the field, on his phone, obviously trying to pretend to be busy.

“I have something to tell you,” Doyoung tried to ignore the anxiety sitting in his stomach.

“Good morning,” Yuta greeted him, polite as always. “I'm all ears.”

Doyoung couldn't even look him in the eye.

“I lied about the cookies.”

“I know.”

“What? How?”

“I lied too,” Yuta smiled at him, pulling his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it. “I never took that baking course in college, that was my friend, Taeyong,” he showed Doyoung a picture, “he owns a bakery now.”

There, smiling brightly at him, were two college kids. Doyoung recognized one of them to be Yuta and the other one, to Doyoung's horror, looked like the man from the bakery.

“Oh,” he wanted to get Jeno in the car and drive far away to never return. “God, this is so embarrassing.”

“Must be,” Yuta told him, “but I was kind of hoping that you would tell me the truth, and you did,” his tone was serious now, “so I forgive you.”

“I didn't mean to lie about it!” Doyoung hurried to explain. “I didn't mean to lie to you either! It's just...” he couldn't find the words. He couldn't find a valid excuse. He didn't know why he had done it.

“I understand,” Yuta said, his eyes staring intensely into Doyoung, who was left speechless.

The pregnant silence fell between them, forcing Yuta to continue.

“I mean, I don't really understand but I guess that it must be hard for you,” he smiled, sympathetic, “to try so hard to do things that you usually wouldn't, for him,” they turned to look at Jeno, still in the bleachers, playing quietly with his dad's phone. “When you first came in and,” he sighed, “you tried to leave Jeno under my complete supervision, I thought that you were one of those asshole parents who try to spend as little time with their children as possible—”

“No!” Doyoung interrupted him. “I would never.”

“I know. After a while, I started to notice that you just hate being outside and all the noise and,” he raised his eyebrows teasingly, “the sport.”

“I don't hate the sport, I just find it boring.”

Yuta shook his head, not really insulted by Doyoung’s comment. “But you still try your best for him,” his voice got softer, “you even lied to try fit in.”

Doyoung trained his eyes in his shoes, he still wanted to leave.

“You don't have to justify yourself to me, you were under pressure, and I can't blame you, soccer moms are scary.”

It was amazing how Yuta managed to comfort him, considering that he barely knew him. Was Doyoung that easy to read? Or was the other man paying that much close attention?

Doyoung closed his eyes. If he focused, he could hear as the other parents arrived, with their noisy children already screaming, and suddenly he remembered that Jeno was sitting by himself in the bleachers. Quiet as always, the child that he did not deserve.

The practice had to start, but if he didn’t tell Yuta how he felt, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else, ever.

He took a deep breath. Two. Three. And opened his eyes.

“I’ve tried my best at parenting,” Doyoung admitted, “but I feel like there are so many things that I just can’t do.”

Yuta simply stared at him, a subtle smile on his lips, encouraging him to continue. And Doyoung did. Feeling so at ease with Yuta now, so comfortable.

“It’s like, I have to be on everything… Sports, a healthy diet, school, birthdays” he listed, “there are just so many things to keep up with and it never gets any easier.”

“Don’t you think you’re putting too much pressure on yourself?” Yuta asked him. “For what I can tell, you’re doing a good job.”

A good job. A good job. It was nice to hear. He smiled at Yuta, but still nodded his head no in disbelief.

“I’m being serious, he’s a great child!”

Well, that was true. “I know, he’s the best,” Doyoung admitted proudly.

“So? What does that say about your parenting?”

Maybe Yuta had a point. A little one.

“Thank you,” Doyoung told him, Now I feel bad, I really misjudged you at first.”

“It’s okay, I misjudged you too.”

“I guess that makes us a pair of assholes.”

“Well, you know what they say about two negatives.”

“Thanks for this,” he thanked him again, getting ready to leave to the bleachers, “I guess I can tell them now.”

“You know I would keep your secret,” Yuta told him and Doyoung smiling, knowing that it was true.

“No, it’s okay, I owe you enough already,” he started to walk backwards towards where the group of parents was.

“A coffee?” Yuta's small voice suggested.

Doyoung nodded his head no.

“Dinner.”


End file.
